<3 Bffs?

ya'll the way I WANT to lean against him at the airport.... the way I WANT to be on this man's lap and kiss him senseless? I AM NOT OKAYYYYYYY

He is my man

Pairing: Reader (f) x Jude Bellingham word count: 2200 tags: jealousy, possessiveness, kissing, protective, fluff

She knew he had a girlfriend. She just didn't expect his girlfriend to walk over.

Ya'll now I don't know if I wanna be the reader or Jude.. HOLY HELLLL whewwwwwwww

JOBE BELLINGHAM- DIGI CAM ⋆˙⟡

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

Synopsis .☘︎ ݁˖-you just wanted one picture with Jobe Bellingham during your family vacation. No big deal. Just a cute memory to look back on. One viral post later, and your life is turned upside down you definitely didn't expect the entire internet to think you're a couple. Now the picture is everywhere,and a certain Birmingham boy found it and from that moment led to another unforgettable memory.

Genre .☘︎ ݁˖- Fluff/ family fluff, and a bit of rom com vibes, Fem!reader

Warnings .☘︎ ݁˖- none

Wc.☘︎ ݁˖- 4.8k

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You gave your reflection one final, critical  in the full-length mirror. The soft, flowy skirt you’d thrown over your bikini swished around your thighs, and the top caught the light in just the right way. It was perfect. You grabbed your trusty digital camera, the one that had documented every family holiday for the past five years and slung the strap over your shoulder.

“Y/N! We’re leaving without you!” your cousin’s muffled voice echoed from the hallway outside your hotel room.

“Coming!” you yelled back, but by the time you’d slipped on your sandals and opened the door, you heard the distant ding of the elevator doors closing. Classic. You were always the last one ready.

You sighed, a small smile on your lips. It was fine. You’d been to this resort twice before with your family; you knew the layout like the back of your hand. The walk to the fire-pit near the beach was only two minutes, a path lit by tiki torches and the fading glow of the setting sun.

As you stepped out of the elevator and into the open-air lobby, you felt eyes on you immediately. A few resort staff members and guests glanced your way, and one of the female staff, holding a tray of welcome cocktails, gave you a warm smile. “You look very lovely this evening, miss!” she said as you passed.

“Thank you,” you replied, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

The moment you stepped onto the sandy path leading to the beach, you noticed it: a commotion. A large crowd of people had gathered near the resort’s beachfront bar, phones held high, a chorus of excited shouts and camera clicks filling the calm evening air. You couldn’t quite make out the who or what was causing the storm 

And then, a figure detached himself from the chaos.

He was tall, with a familiar build and a head of dark curls that you’d recognise anywhere. He backed away from the crowd,  his mother,Denise, laughing softly at his side as he watched the scene unfold. It was a scene you’d only ever seen on social media: Jude Bellingham, engulfed by fans, and his girlfriend caught in the whirlwind. But your eyes weren’t on Jude.

They were fixed on his younger brother.

Jobe.

Your stomach dropped, a strange mix of nerves and excitement flooding your system. Your feet felt like they were glued to the sand. “Should I ask for a picture? “a frantic voice screamed in your head. “Or should I just walk past him like I haven’t just memorised every goal he’s scored this season?”

Your heart hammered against your ribs. This wasn't a scenario you'd ever rehearsed. You were on a family holiday, in a flowy skirt and a bikini top, clutching a digital camera like a tourist. And he was Jobe Bellingham, looking effortlessly cool in a simple t-shirt and shorts, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watched his brother’s fame unfold from a safe distance.

It was now or never.

Your body moved before your brain could catch up. You walked towards him, your steps feeling both too loud and too quiet on the soft sand. He turned his head, his gaze shifting from the crowd to you. He looked at you, his expression momentarily stunned, as if he wasn’t used to people approaching him first.

Say something, you idiot!

“Um, hey, Jobe?” you managed, your voice a little higher than you’d intended. You forced a pleasant smile, hoping it looked more confident than you felt. “Is it okay if I ask for a picture?”

For a split second, he didn't say a word. He just blinked, his dark eyes scanning your face with an unreadable intensity. Then, a small, surprised smile tugged at his lips. He glanced at his mom, Denise, who was watching the interaction with a curious, knowing glint in her eyes. He looked back at you, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips.

“Uh… yeah, sure, sure, of course,” he said, his voice laced with that soft, melodic Brummie accent that made your insides flutter. It was deeper in person, more real.

You were half-expecting a polite ‘no’ or a ‘sorry, I’m busy’. The fact that he’d agreed so readily, so genuinely, made a wave of pure joy crash over you. “Oh!? Oh my god, yes!” you squeaked, your tense expression dissolving into a wide, beaming smile.

You fumbled with your phone, unlocking it and opening the camera app. You angled it up, trying to find a good shot, but you could see in the viewfinder that the lighting was off, and the angle was awkward. You were just about to settle for it when Jobe noticed your struggle.

“Here, lemme take it for you,” he offered, holding out his large, tanned hand. You placed your phone in his palm, your fingers brushing against his for a fraction of a second. A jolt of electricity shot up your arm, and you were certain he felt it too.

He stretched his arm up high, and you shuffled to stand beside him, very aware of the significant height difference. You looked up at the camera, feeling like a total dwarf next to him. Denise watched with a soft, maternal smile, her gaze flickering between you both.

Just as Jobe was about to lower the phone, you caught a glimpse of the sky behind him. The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in breathtaking shades of orange, pink, and purple. It was a perfect, impossibly romantic backdrop.

“NO, JOBE, WAIT!” you burst out, your hand instinctively flying to his shoulder to stop him. Your fingers gripped the soft fabric of his t-shirt, your excitement getting the better of you. You were talking to him like he was an old friend, the celebrity status completely forgotten in the face of the stunning sunset. “I need one on my digi camera! This sunset is amazing! I need this.” You gestured wildly with your other hand towards the sky, your eyes wide and pleading. He looked down at you, your hand still resting on his shoulder, your face lit up with the golden hues of the sun, and let out a low, amused chuckle. His expression softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He didn’t look away from you, not even for a second. He was captivated.

“Oh, yeah, that would be sick, mate,” he said, his accent thickening slightly. “Let’s do it.”

He turned to his mother. “Mom, can you take these for us?” He asked, holding out your digital camera.

Denise walked over, a knowing smile on her lips. She took the camera from you, her fingers brushing yours. She looked between you and her son, a silent understanding passing between them.

You and Jobe stood side-by-side, facing Denise. You were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t even realise what was happening. His arm naturally found its way around your waist, his large hand resting on the curve of your hip. You instinctively leaned into him, your head falling gently against his shoulder, your hand coming to rest on his solid waist. You felt the warmth of his hand through your thin skirt, his fingers caressing the fabric gently, almost absentmindedly. It felt so natural, so right.

Denise raised the camera. “1… 2… 3…”

The flash went off, and you both blinked rapidly, the bright light leaving spots in your vision. You pulled away slightly, still rubbing your eyes, and walked over to Denise.

“Thank you so much, Momma Bellingham!” you exclaimed, grinning as you reached for your camera.

Denise chuckled, a warm, genuine sound. “I’ve never heard that one before,” she said, amused by the unexpected nickname.

You and Jobe continued to chat for a few minutes as Jude started to wrap things up with the last few fans. He seemed in no rush to leave your company.

“So… um, I hope you’re doing better after that injury you got last game,” you said, looking up at him.

He tilted his head, a curious expression on his face. “Ay, how’d you know about that?” he asked, his tone genuinely intrigued.

“I watch all of your games, silly,” you said, a soft smile on your lips. Great, now I sound like a stalker (you thought to yourself after your remark).

His expression melted. The playful curiosity was replaced by something deeper, something softer. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off you. “Is that so, huh?” he breathed, his voice low. “Well… I really appreciate that, mate. I don’t think you truly know how much that means.”

You knew your face was flaming now, but you didn’t care. The sincerity in his voice hit

you right in the chest. “I even got tickets for the next upcoming game next month,” you quickly added. “It’ll be my first match I’ll watch in person. Hopefully, you’ll be playing.”

“C’mon, you know I’ll be there!” he said, grinning. He started to tell you about the new training drills he’d been working on, and his excitement was palpable. But you were lost. You couldn't concentrate on a single word he was saying.

He was even more handsome in person., the straight, white flash of his smile, the sheer breadth of his shoulders… he was even taller than you’d expected. Your gaze traced the line of his jaw, the small mole near his eyebrow, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about football.

You were so obviously checking him out that you didn’t even realise you’d started looking down, a shy smile playing on your lips, trying to avoid his gaze. The air between you both crackled with unspoken electricity.

Denise watched everything, her eyes sharp and analytical. She’d seen that look before, in her husband’s eyes, in Jude’s eyes. She saw the way her son’s hand had lingered on your waist, the way his voice had softened, the way he was hanging on your every word. She knew. And the knowing smile that touched her lips was undeniable.

A few moments later, Jude and Ashlyn finally made their way over. The reality of the situation crashed back down around you.

“I better get going now,” you said, a little abruptly, cutting off Jobe mid-sentence. You hadn’t even heard his last question.

You turned to leave, but Jobe’s hand shot out, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist. His touch was warm, sending another shockwave through your system. Your heart hammered as you turned back, your eyes wide.

“Hey, wait,” he said, a soft, almost hopeful smile on his lips. “You didn’t give me your name?”

It was once again another shocker. You blinked, your brain scrambling to catch up with reality. You hadn't even registered he'd asked such a question during his rant about training drills and upcoming fixtures.

"Oh, sorry," you said, letting out a breathy laugh. "I didn't even know you asked that, Jobe."

You gave him your name, your voice barely above a whisper. Part of you wondered why the hell he would even need to know it. You were just another fan, another face in the crowd. Tomorrow, he'd probably have a hundred more people asking for pictures, and your name would slip from his memory like water through fingers. You'd probably never see each other in such a moment again. Before parting ways, you couldn't help yourself. A playful smirk tugged at your lips as you looked him up and down, taking in his tall frame one last time.

"Not like you'll remember my name by next month anyway," you teased, your tone light and airy. Jobe's eyebrows shot up, a look of mock offense crossing his handsome face. "Watch!" he called after you as you started to walk away, his voice carrying that warm Brummie lilt. "I wouldn't... hopefully I will see you at the game, yeah?"

You glanced back over your shoulder, catching his eye one last time. He was still watching you, a small, lingering smile on his face. Denise was beside him, whispering something in his ear that made him duck his head and laugh.

You forced yourself to turn around and keep walking.

Don't look back again. Don't look back again.

You didn't.

The night went back to normal after you both parted ways. The festival music pulsed through the warm beach air, the fire crackled, and your family's laughter filled your ears. But yet, every single interaction you'd had with him kept replaying in your head on an endless loop.

The way his hand had felt on your waist.

The way his eyes had softened when you said you watched his games.

The way he'd said your name back to you, testing it on his tongue like he was committing it to memory.

You found your cousins near the fire-pit, huddled around the warm glow of the flames. They were all laughing, drinks in hand, clearly having the time of their lives without you. "Finally!" your cousin Mia shouted as you approached. "We thought you got lost!"You flopped down onto the log next to them, pulling out your phone. "You're never going to believe what happened to me." "Did you get hit on by the pool boy again?" your cousin Leah teased. "No," you said, a giddy smile spreading across your face. "Worse. Better. I don't even know." You opened your camera roll and shoved your phone in their faces. There it was. The picture Jobe had taken of you both. The one where the obvious height differences showed as you leaned up looking at the camera. The reaction was immediate.

"OH MY GOD!" Mia shrieked, grabbing the phone from your hands. "IS THAT JOBE BELLINGHAM?!"

"Wait, wait, wait—" Leah leaned in closer, her eyes wide. "You met JOBE? Like, the Jobe Bellingham?!"

"And Jude," you added nonchalantly, trying to play it cool. "He was there too. But Jobe was the one I talked to."

"Great!" Mia threw her hands up. "The ONE moment I leave you behind, you meet freaking Jobe Bellingham... heck, even Jude!"

"I'm so jealous right now," Leah groaned, dramatically clutching her chest. "This is actually so unfair."

Your oldest cousin, Melanie, had been quiet, studying the picture with an analytical eye. She zoomed in, tilting her head, a slow grin spreading across her face.

"You both would look so cute as a couple," she said finally, her voice dripping with teasing. "Now that I'm looking at the picture properly... I mean, look at the way he's holding you. That's not just a  picture, Y/N. That's literally a moment."

Your cheeks immediately flushed. The thought of it, of you and Jobe Bellingham, together—made your stomach do a full somersault. You snatched your phone back, staring at the picture again.

"Ugh, I wish," you said, flopping yourself backward onto the sand, staring up at the starry sky. You felt utterly defeated. "You guys think he's still thinking about everything right now? Like... I can't just be ME, right? I'm just some random girl."

You sat up abruptly, your eyes wide. "I mean, I know he's famous and all," you continued, your voice gaining momentum. "But I swear, it felt like he was a little interested. If only you’d see the way he looked at me? That wasn't just a fan picture. That was—"

"You're a beautiful girl," Melanie interrupted, her voice firm and reassuring. "Even I wouldn't pass up a face like yours."

"Exactly!" Mia chimed in, nodding enthusiastically. "Oh, he's probably trying to find your social media as we speak. Like, why else would he want to know your name? If you were just another fan, he would've taken the picture and moved on. But he ASKED. That means something."

"Maybe he's already googling you," Leah added with a mischievous grin. "He's probably scrolling through your Instagram right now, trying to figure out how to slide into your DMs."

All these back-to-back remarks made you laugh. Hard. Your cousins sure knew how to support your delusions. They had you believing that maybe, just maybe, something had actually happened between you and Jobe Bellingham.

But you didn't want to spend the whole night talking about a boy. You were on holiday with your family, surrounded by warmth and love and the sound of the ocean. You decided to forget that whole thing had happened for a moment.

"Alright, enough about Jobe," you announced, standing up and brushing the sand off your skirt. "Who's ready for some more pictures?"

You pulled out your digital camera, the one that had started this whole mess, and spent the rest of the night capturing moments. Your cousins goofing off. The sunset finally disappeared into the dark ocean. The fire crackled. Your aunt attempting to dance and almost tripping over a log.

You laughed until your stomach hurt. You sang along to the festival music. You ate too much s'mores and got sand absolutely everywhere.

But in the back of your mind, one thought lingered.

Jobe Bellingham asked for my name.

It was stupid. It was delusional. It was absolutely, positively nothing.

But still.

He asked.

Coming back to your hotel room, you could hear the muffled sounds of your family getting ready for bed in the adjoining rooms. The festival had worn everyone out, and the distant crash of waves was already sending  the resort into a peaceful silence.

You showered quickly, the warm water washing away the salt and sand from the evening. Wrapped in your comfiest pajamas, you pulled your laptop out and sat cross-legged on the plush hotel bed. Your digital camera was still heavy with memories from the night, and you couldn't wait to see how they'd turned out.

You transferred the pictures from your camera to your laptop, then from your laptop to your phone. The familiar process was almost meditative. Once everything was transferred, you opened your camera roll and began going through the moments you'd captured at the fire pit on the beach. You slid through each picture, critiquing every angle and lighting. Your cousin's mid-laugh. The fire crackling. Your aunt's disastrous dance moves. Each one brought a smile to your face.

You slid right once more.

And then you landed on it.

The one Denise had taken of you and Jobe.

Your hands flew to your mouth immediately, muffling the scream that threatened to escape. Your eyes went wide, practically bulging out of your head.

"This is  THEE vacation picture," you whispered, your voice trembling with immense excitement.

You stared at the screen, unable to look away. The sunset behind you both was absolutely breathtaking—swirls of orange, pink, and purple bleeding into the darkening sky. But that wasn't what had you frozen.

It was you and Jobe.

You were both smiling, looking so natural and comfortable with each other. Your head was resting against his shoulder, your hand placed casually on his waist. And his arm was wrapped around you, his large hand resting firmly on your hip.

You zoomed in, your breath catching in your throat.

"WHAT THE HECK?" you whispered, your voice pitching higher. "How did I not blow up in the moment when that happened?"

You zoomed in further, examining the way his fingers curved around your waist. His hand was massive—one hand was literally covering most of your waist. Only ONE hand. The warmth you'd felt in that moment came flooding back, and you could practically feel his touch again.

"His hand is literally covering most of my waist," you repeated, your cheeks burning. "We literally look like a couple."

You stared at the picture for what felt like hours, zooming in and out, examining every detail. The soft smile on his lips. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners. The way you looked so safe in his arms.

You couldn't wait to go home and post these pictures after your vacation. You already knew which one would be first.

1 Week Time Skip

It had been two days since you'd come home from vacation. The post-holiday blues had hit hard, but you'd finally unpacked, done your laundry, and settled back into your normal routine. And now, sitting in your childhood bedroom surrounded by the familiar comfort of your things, you felt like this was the best time to post your vacation dump to Instagram.

You opened the app, your thumb hovering over the upload button. You'd carefully curated the perfect slideshow, making sure to put the picture of you and Jobe first. It was the crown jewel of your entire trip—the moment that had replayed in your head a thousand times since that night.

Like last time, you were freshly showered, sitting in bed in the dead of night. The soft glow of your phone screen illuminated your face as you gave your pictures in the slideshow one last look through, seeing if you needed to add or remove anything before posting.

“Should I post it?” a nervous voice whispered in your head.” What if people think it's weird?” “ What if it comes off as obsessive?”

But then you looked at the picture again. By the way Jobe was holding you. At the genuine smiles on both your faces. It wasn't obsessive. It was a beautiful moment captured on camera.

"AND POST," you announced to no one, pressing the button immediately and placing your phone face down on your nightstand to avoid seeing any notifications.

You didn't want to obsess. You didn't want to refresh the page every five seconds waiting for likes.

Slowly, you dozed off to sleep.

The next morning, you woke up to the surprise of your life.

Your eyes fluttered open, the morning sun streaming through your curtains. You reached for your phone, still half-asleep, and your thumb pressed the home button.

Your Lock Screen was filled with notifications. They were never-ending—every time you scrolled, more appeared at the bottom. Your heart started pounding as you unlocked your phone and opened Instagram.

Your jaw dropped.

The picture had gone viral overnight. Slightly viral, at least. You'd gained 130k likes—the most you'd ever gotten in your entire life. Your notifications were flooded, your DMs were overflowing, and your comments section was an absolute frenzy.

You scrolled through the comments, your eyes growing wider with each one:

"Are you two a couple?" "Very beautiful couple 😍"

"I'm a new fan of his,is this Jobe's girlfriend?!" "This picture is so Pinterest coded omg" "The way he's holding her... I'm crying" "Wait, is this real???"

And then you saw one from your cousin, mia: 

"YOU NEVER SHOWED ME THIS PICTURE OMG SO GORGEOUS YOU BOTH ARE!" "You're famous now :)"

This was all so much to process. You felt a bit overwhelmed by the sudden attention brought to your account. You'd posted vacation photos before—you'd never gotten more than a hundred likes. And now, hundreds of thousands of people were looking at you.

Soon after, you saw messages from your family members coming in. You clicked on the one from your older uncle, who was a crazy football fan:

"Scrolling on Facebook and I saw this picture of you and the Bellingham brother. Is this real or AI?"

Then from your cousin chat:

"GIRL, you're currently trending on Twitter with that damn picture. It's literally everywhere."

You placed your phone down, just staring out the window for a while. Your heart was racing, your mind spinning.

"This feels so weird," you said aloud, your voice barely above a whisper. "So this is how it feels to go viral overnight, huh?"

But despite the overwhelm, you couldn't stop the smile that spread across your face. You'd been bubbly the whole morning since that moment. Every time you checked your phone, the likes and followers kept climbing on your picture. It was surreal. And as the hours went by, as you did your daily routine, the numbers just kept growing. It was a matter of time until it stumbled upon Jobe's feed.

Across the country, the final whistle for training blew, and Coach called today's session to an end.

Jobe walked over to the locker room, his shirt drenched in sweat, talking to one of his teammates and good friend off the pitch, Carney.

"Finished earlier than expected today, huh?" Carney laughed, tossing his towel over his shoulder.

"Coach probably has a babe to meet at 6pm sharp," Jobe replied with a grin.

Both Jobe and Carney let out obnoxious snorts of laughter, causing the other mates to look their way. They weren't surprised—it was always them making the noise.

The atmosphere simmered down as they reached the locker room, and Jobe sat down on the bench, peeling his shirt off. He pulled out his phone, scrolling mindlessly at first, just doom-scrolling through his feed.

And then it happened.

Your picture appeared on his feed.

His thumb froze over the screen. His heart gave an unexpected lurch in his chest.

It was the picture. The one his mom had taken of you both at the resort. The one where his hand was resting on your waist. The one where you were both smiling like you'd known each other for years.

He read the caption, then scrolled to the comments. His ears grew redder by the moment as he read what was being said about you both:

"He would look amazing with you" "Are you his girlfriend?" "Beautiful couple 😍" "How does it feel to live my dream?" "Jobe needs to wife her up immediately"

He zoned out mid-way, his mind drifting back to that night on the beach. The way you'd walked up to him so confidently. The way your eyes had lit up when you talked about the sunset. The way you'd said you watched all his games. That kind of support you showed, that's the kind of support he wanted from someone dear to him. Someone who saw him for more than just a Jude Bellingham's little brother. Someone who genuinely cared.

And your eyes. Your smile. The way you'd looked at him like he was just a normal guy.

He wished he could go back to that moment again. He wished he could relive it.

"Jobe?"

He snapped out of his thoughts, looking up to find Carney staring at him with a suspicious expression.

"Dude, I'm talking to you," Carney said, tilting his head. "What has you so down in that damn phone, man?"

Jobe turned his phone off quickly, adjusting his voice, trying to sound casual. "What'd you ask,mate?"

Carney gave him a slow, side-eyed look. He knew Jobe was suddenly acting a bit funny, his face visibly super flustered all of a sudden. But he tried not to question it too much.

"...I said if we're still on for the game with the boys later?" Carney repeated slowly.

"Yeah, yeah, course we are," Jobe replied, his voice a little too quick. "Wouldn't miss it, lad."

Carney just nodded, still side-eyeing him, but let it drop.

Later that night, back at home away from the world, Jobe finally settled into his bed. The house was quiet, the only sound was the distant hum of traffic outside.

He pulled his phone back out.

He opened Instagram.

He went back to your account.

Just to watch it once more. Just to reminisce on the moment with you again. He scrolled through the pictures you'd posted. You with your family. You laughing at the fire pit. You looking beautiful in the golden hour light. And then the picture of you both, staring back at him like a reminder of something he couldn't quite let go of.

Finally, his thumb hovered over the like button.

He pressed it.

*Jobe Bellingham liked your post*.

Little did he know, something so small was about to add even more fuel to the raging fire over this picture that was already sending the football world into a frenzy.

Soon after, he went through your previous highlights, looking at pictures of you and the other moments you'd shared on social media. Your smile. Your laugh. The way you seemed so genuine and real.

It was taking everything in him in that moment to not DM you.

To not type out a message and send it into the void.

To not tell you how much that moment had meant to him.

But he held back. For now.

Back on your side, the moment THAT like came in, your phone buzzed with a notification.

"user Jobe Bellingham liked your post."

Your heart stopped.

You stared at the screen, your mouth falling open.

He found your account at last.

This was the night everything changed for your life. And subsequently, Jobe's own too.

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author's note .☘︎ ݁˖- first story on Tumblr kinda nervous 😬

I still read this time to time...I LOOVEE it because I need more people to wake up and look at my Jobe. ISTG if one more commentator mentions Jude during his games Im'ma flip the fuck out

she heard — # jude bellingham

synopsis — after reader overhears jude calling her constant presence “annoying,” she quietly distances herself from him and his family. but as the silence she leaves behind grows impossible to ignore, jude realizes the girl he’d taken for granted was the one he’d been falling in love with all along.

# warnings: very faint angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

# wc: 5.9k

# mia’s note: while i finish up the last chapters of amongst it all i wanted to leave one of the things i had written a long time ago but never actually took the time to post. it’s long but i love it so much. reqs are open now for anons to because apparently i had them off?? with sooo much love, mia

masterlist

the first time jude noticed her, she was ten years old and sitting cross legged on the kitchen floor because she insisted the tiles were colder than chairs.

jobe had dragged her inside after school with grass stains on both of their knees and a football tucked under one arm.

“mum!” jobe shouted. “we’re starving.”

his mother looked up from the stove before smiling. “and who have you kidnapped today?”

y/n answered before jobe could. broad smile on her face. “i came willingly.”

jude, thirteen then, barely spared her a glance as he walked through the kitchen toward the fridge.

she, however, watched him like he’d personally invented gravity. and that’s when it started.

it became something everyone noticed eventually. not in the exaggerated way children teased each other, but it was just there. you could notice it without much effort.

whenever jobe invited her over, she’d end up lingering wherever jude happened to be. if jude was practicing free kicks in the garden, she’d find an excuse to sit on the patio with homework she never actually touched. if jude was watching football in the living room, she’d suddenly be interested in whichever teams were playing. if he walked into the kitchen, she’d somehow already be there asking jobe if he wanted a snack.

she wasn’t subtle. never had been. never really tried to be either.

she would ask jude questions no one else did.

“did training go well?”

“what boots are those?”

“did your ankle ever stop hurting?”

she remembered things. too many things. things that the best friend of your younger brother shouldn’t really remember.

one afternoon she looked up from helping jobe with homework and casually said; “you have trials tomorrow, right?”

jude blinked. “yeah.”

“i’ll be rooting for you.”

it was simple and quick. she said it without even expecting a reply. as if just stating something that he shouldn’t need to overthink.

she smiled before looking back down at the maths sheet as though she’d simply commented on the weather.

he remembered thinking that she was weird. not in a mean way, just weird. odd.

because why did she know that?

years passed. jobe and y/n stayed inseparable. jude became a professional footballer. they were basically the same, only older.

the visits never stopped. if anything, they became more frequent.

whenever jude came home during breaks, y/n always happened to be there. helping his mum bake, watching a movie with jobe, sitting outside with headphones around her neck laughing so hard she nearly fell off the garden chair.

it didn’t necessarily mean she was there for him. she really wasn’t. she was there because it was her home now too. that’s how she felt about it.

she’d wave when he walked in anyways. always.

a soft greeting with that sweet smile that seemed to never fade. “hi, jude,” like she’d been waiting for him.

he’d nod, small smile that didn’t always reach his eyes, respond nonchalantly. “alright,” and keep walking.

she never seemed offended. never pushed. never expected conversations longer than a few minutes. but she existed around him close enough to notice, and far enough not to get in the way.

his teammates figured it out before he ever did.

one summer, several of them were staying over while training nearby. jobe had invited y/n around because they were planning to watch a match together.

she walked into the garden carrying chips and lemonade and greet everyone with that same enthusiasm she always carried herself with.

“hi!”

and then she’d look at jude.

“hi,” with a completely different voice. smaller and softer. almost shy.

she had never been particularly shy. kept to herself maybe a little, never nervous in normal settings though.

so it wasn’t a surprise when one of his teammates noticed instantly.

after she disappeared back inside, someone elbowed him. “dude.”

“what?”

“that girl.”

“what about her?”

“she’s in love with you.”

jude nearly choked on his drink, laughing uncontrollably. “no, she isn’t.”

“oh, come off it. you didn’t see the way she looked at you?”

another teammate laughed. “i’ve seen insurance sellers less committed than her.”

jude rolled his eyes, a bit more serious now. “she’s jobe’s friend.”

“exactly.”

“so?”

“so she’s been staring at you for ten minutes.”

“i wasn’t even talking.”

“that definitely didn’t stop her, mate.”

the conversation dissolved into laughter. jude tried laughing too, but it was a different mindset now.

he couldn’t stop noticing.

the way she’d unconsciously turn toward him whenever he spoke. how she’d laugh louder when he made jokes. how she’d immediately ask if he wanted another drink before anyone else. how she always chose the chair closest to him without seeming to realise she’d done it. how she remembered tiny details he’d forgotten he’d ever mentioned.

it was a lot. it wasn’t normal.

then came the teasing.

“oh look.”

“there she is.”

“your little shadow.”

“jude’s biggest fan.”

he denied it every single time. rolling his eyes and drifting the topic to anything else.

“she’s just friends with my brother.”

“mhm.”

“nothing else.”

yet the jokes kept coming. and eventually, they started irritating him.

not because of y/n. she hadn’t done anything wrong. but everyone kept making it into something.

every time she walked over; “there she comes.”

every time she smiled; “oh, she’s looking.”

every time she asked him something; “damn, she’s obsessed.”

he started becoming hyperaware of it. of her, of where she stood, of whether people were watching, whether they were going to make another joke.

instead of simply seeing y/n, he started seeing everyone else’s reactions to y/n.

and resentment quietly settled somewhere it never should have.

it happened during another barbecue.

the house was loud as it usually was. children running through sprinklers and music floating from the speakers with adults talking over one another.

y/n and jobe had gone inside to find ice cream while jude leaned against the fence with three friends.

one of them nodded toward the patio doors. “so, when are you going to tell your girlfriend?”

jude groaned. “for god’s sake.”

“what?”

“she’s not my girlfriend.”

“you sure?”

another snorted. “mate, she follows you everywhere.”

jude rubbed a hand over his face, irritation overflowing. “i know.”

“so?”

he laughed, but there wasn’t any humor behind it. nothing was funny, he just needed the conversation to end.

“it’s honestly…” he searched for a word. one that wasn’t mean but one that could explain the situation. “…annoying.”

possibly the worst choice of wording ever.

his friends were no longer laughing. smiles had dimmed a bit as well. he was being serious.

“i can’t go anywhere in this house without her appearing.”

one of his friends chuckled. “that’s harsh.”

“i’m serious. i walk into a room and she’s there. i go outside and she’s outside. it’s like having a second little sibling.”

another laugh, but jude only shook his head. “i just want one visit where she’s not attached to my side.”

one of them muttered. “damn,” not even being funny. but there was genuinely nothing else that they could’ve said. jude wasn’t being nice.

he shrugged. “i don’t mean to sound horrible, but it gets old,” he looked down at the grass. “i don’t even know why she likes me. i’ve never done anything.”

none of them noticed the kitchen door had opened. or that y/n had frozen halfway through stepping outside. a tub of vanilla ice cream in one hand, spoons in the other.

her smile disappeared so quietly no one saw it happen. not even jude, seemingly too busy speaking his mind.

she stood there for perhaps two minutes. long enough to hear every word and long enough to understand exactly what he meant.

then she turned around and walked back inside without making a sound.

jobe found her standing in the laundry room. she was staring at the washing machine doing absolutely nothing.

“you alright?”

she blinked, being pulled out of her thoughts. “oh. yeah.”

“you found the ice cream?”

“mhm.”

“then why’re you in here?”

she looked toward the hallway.

for a second, jobe thought she’d cry. her eyes did that little thing where they watered, but this time it wasn’t out of happiness like it usually was.

instead, she smiled. “i’m suddenly not very hungry.”

“you sick?”

“no,” she handed him the tub. “you take it.”

“what about you?”

“i think my mum wanted me home anyway.”

jobe frowned. “no she didn’t.”

y/n sighed. “i know,” her smile trembled. “but i’ll pretend she did.”

before he could ask another question, she was gone.

the first few days, jude didn’t notice. not really.

life had a way of swallowing small absences before anyone realized they were gone, and he was fairly busy. like any other footballer was.

training started before sunrise, recovery sessions blurred into media obligations, flights, matches, interviews. by the time he came home, he barely registered that the house was quieter or that there was an absence that was impossible to miss.

it wasn’t until the following saturday. he walked into the kitchen, already expecting to hear two voices arguing over something ridiculous. it was mostly the same thing: jobe insisting pineapple belonged on pizza, y/n insisting it absolutely didn’t. or y/n stealing chips from the cupboard only for jobe to yell; “mum! she took the last packet again!”

but instead there was only silence. just his mother humming while she stirred a pot on the stove.

jude opened the fridge. “where’s jobe?”

“training.”

“and…” he hesitated. “…y/n?”

denise looked up. “oh. she’s not coming over much lately.”

he nodded absentmindedly. “right.”

he grabbed a bottle of water and left. it didn’t really bother him. it didn’t feel strange.

not yet.

then another week passed. then another and another.

and he noticed she’d vanished.

there was no extra backpack by the front door, no shoes kicked off in the hallway, no voice calling “hello?” before she’d even stepped inside, letting herself in like it was her house. no asking his mother if she needed help cooking, and no laughter spilling upstairs because she and jobe had found another stupid video to laugh at.

nothing.

“is y/n busy?” the question slipped out before jude realized he’d spoken.

jobe didn’t even look up from his phone. “dunno.”

“you haven’t seen her?”

he nodded. “i have.”

“so why isn’t she here?”

jobe shrugged. “she doesn’t come over anymore.”

“why?”

another shrug. “says she’s busy.”

that should’ve been enough. people got busy. they grew up and had lives to live. only issue was that y/n had never been too busy. not for jobe, not for his family, and not for him.

his eyes drifted unconsciously toward the empty chair in the garden.

the one she always chose. every single time.

and wondered why he didn’t like that she wasn’t there.

a month. one whole month and he hadn’t even seen her once. not even by accident.

until family dinner. his mother had invited y/n’s parents over, something she’d done for years.

jude almost smiled to himself while walking downstairs. absentmindedly and without questioning why. he just expected things to feel normal again.

expected y/n to already be sitting beside jobe and expected her to grin awkwardly when he walked in.

jobe looked up. “oh, jude’s here.”

she turned and barely glanced at him. “hi.”

just one word. polite, no smile, no dirty look either. but it felt dull.

then she turned straight back to jobe. “did you finish that game?”

“yeah, but you would’ve hated the ending.”

“no spoilers.”

“i wasn’t gonna—”

she laughed. it didn’t look staged or fake. but how dare she? like jude wasn’t standing three feet away.

for the rest of dinner she never addressed him once. if she needed salt she asked jobe, if she wanted another drink she asked his mother, if someone asked the whole table a question she answered everyone except him.

she wasn’t being rude. y/n was never rude. that almost made it worse.

but she was being indifferent. like he’d become another chair in the room.

and he didn’t like that.

his mother noticed first. after dinner she quietly nudged him while washing dishes. “you two alright?”

he frowned. “who?”

“you and y/n.”

“what?”

“she hardly spoke to you.”

“oh,” he shrugged, looking back at the dishes. “didn’t notice.”

his mother gave him a look that clearly said she knew he was lying. but she didn’t push.

the dinners kept happening every few weeks. every single one looked exactly the same.

y/n arrived, hugged his mother, teased his dad, spent an hour laughing with jobe, helped clear plates, thanked everyone, and went home.

jude existed somewhere in the background.

she never sought him out anymore. never accidentally wandered into the same room or asked about training. never remembered his matches.

never looked at him. not really.

and that hurt him more than he’d ever imagined it could.

it became embarrassing how often he caught himself searching for her.

walking downstairs expecting to hear her. coming home wondering if her shoes were by the door.

listening for her laugh before remembering she didn’t come anymore.

then little things started surfacing. tiny things he’d never appreciated.

his mother sighed one afternoon while baking. “i miss her.”

jude looked up. “y/n?”

“mhm.”

“why?”

his mother smiled softly. “she always helped without asking,” denise looked at him. “made tea, set the table.”

“kept me company.”

the house suddenly felt empty. and it was weird because there was definitely people there.

jobe noticed too. though he’d never admit it directly.

one evening jude found him sitting alone in the garden. football balanced between his feet.

“no y/n?”

jobe kicked the ball lazily. “no.”

“you two argue?”

“nope.”

“so?”

“i don’t know,” jobe frowned. “she just stopped coming around, i guess.”

one afternoon jude was cleaning out an old cupboard looking for a charger.

instead he found a tiny notebook. blue cover with dog eared corners.

he flipped it open absentmindedly. he didn’t know who it belonged to, but he laughed at the thought of it being jobe’s.

then he froze.

every page was covered in football fixtures. england matches, champions league nights, training schedules.

written in tiny handwriting with stickers and words highlighted in so many colors.

he recognized it instantly. this was something that belonged to y/n.

there were notes beside certain dates. those were surrounded by extra stickers.

“wish jude luck.”

“ask how recovery went.”

“don’t forget his birthday.”

a folded receipt slipped from between the pages.

he unfolded it and found a photograph. years old with folded corners and faded color.

jobe was making a stupid face, y/n laughing so hard her eyes were closed, and jude. standing beside them looking mildly annoyed because someone had insisted he join.

he couldn’t even remember the picture being taken, but y/n had kept it. all these years.

his chest tightened and his hands trembled slightly.

he carefully slid everything back exactly as he’d found it and didn’t mention it.

that night, he couldn’t sleep.

his friends’ voices echoed through his head.

“she’s obsessed.”

“she’s always around.”

“your shadow.”

then his own.

“it’s honestly annoying.”

he squeezed his eyes shut. he hadn’t just rejected a confession or simply said he wasn’t interested.

he’d mocked y/n’s presence. someone who’d spent years making his family feel warmer. someone who’d celebrated every goal he ever scored. someone who’d never once asked him for anything.

and she’d heard him. he was sure of it.

she’d heard every word.

the realization settled slowly and painfully. it wasn’t just that y/n had stopped following him around or that she’d grown out of him. she’d stopped feeling safe around him.

and he was realizing just now.

a few days later, jobe wandered into jude’s room without knocking.

“you did something.”

jude looked up from his phone, frowning. “what?”

“to y/n.”

his stomach dropped as he put his phone away. “why do you think that?”

“because she won’t come over.”

“so?”

“so she loved this house,” jobe’s voice was unusually serious. “she practically lived here. i ask her every week and she always says no.”

jude swallowed.

“what reason? ‘busy.’ and she’s obviously lying,” jobe looked directly at him. “i’ve known her since we were ten. i know when she’s lying. you did something.”

jude stared at the floor. “i don’t know.”

“liar.”

the words lingered long after jobe left.

jude admitted it to himself. he knew exactly what he’d done.

he just hadn’t realized how much damage one conversation could do. because it wasn’t only her discomfort towards him, but he’d taken his mothers and his brother’s person and pushed them as far from them as he could without meaning to.

it got worse when he started noticing her everywhere.

a café she’d recommended. a song she’d once played in the car. a mug she’d accidentally left behind that his mother refused to throw away.

he’d hear someone laugh in public, turn his head, and feel disappointed when it wasn’t her.

he’d score during a match and look toward the family section without thinking. as if expecting to find one familiar face beaming brighter than the rest.

she wasn’t there. of course she wasn’t.

and every time something inside him sank a little further. so deep it became impossible to deny.

he hadn’t been annoyed by y/n, he’d been annoyed that everyone else noticed her feelings before he did. embarrassed by the teasing. too immature to separate her quiet affection from his friends’ jokes.

so he’d taken his frustration out on the easiest target. the person who deserved it least. the one with the sweetest smile.

and now the silence she’d left behind echoed louder than she’d ever spoken.

by the end of the second month, jude realized something that made him sit awake until nearly dawn.

the house hadn’t become quieter because y/n talked a lot; it had become quieter because she’d filled every room without trying. he just hadn’t understood it until she stopped.

and perhaps the cruelest part of all was that the only reason he finally understood how much she mattered was because he was living in the emptiness she’d left behind.

by the third month, guilt had stopped feeling sharp, but it was heavier. the kind that followed jude everywhere.

it waited beside him in the gym, sat beside him on team buses, appeared in hotel rooms when the television was on but he wasn’t watching.

it even found him during matches. after goals. after victories. during celebrations where everyone else was smiling.

he’d catch himself looking toward the stands.

it was ridiculous. she’d hardly ever come to his matches. she preferred watching from home because she claimed, very seriously, that she got less nervous through a screen.

still he looked. every time. and every time he was met by the same disappointment.

and he had no one other than himself to blame.

“you’ve been weird,” trent dropped onto the bench beside him after training.

jude didn’t bother looking up. “i’ve always been weird.”

“no. you’ve been…” he searched for the word. “…quiet.”

“i’m tired.”

“no, you’re something else.”

jude laughed once, but it lacked its usual warmth. “you sound like my therapist.”

“i’m serious,” trent nudged his shoulder. “did something happen?”

jude almost answered. almost said it aloud.

i broke someone’s heart without even realizing she’d handed it to me.

but he chose to shrug his shoulders. “nah.”

one rainy tuesday, he came home unexpectedly because training had been cancelled.

the house was empty except for his mother, who was sitting at the dining table with a cardboard box.

he walked to where she was and saw what the box had inside. old photographs, birthday cards, school drawings.

jude sat beside her. “what’re you doing?”

“sorting,” she smiled. “i’ve been meaning to for years.”

he reached into the box absentmindedly and pulled out a picture of jobe missing two front teeth. y/n beside him with scraped knees.

himself in the background looking deeply offended because someone had forced him into the frame like always.

his mother laughed. “you remember that?”

“no.”

“you complained for ten minutes. ‘why do i have to be in every picture?’,” she imitated his younger voice perfectly.

jude smiled despite himself.

then another picture. y/n sitting on the kitchen counter, decorating cupcakes. flour all over her nose and denise beside her laughing.

another.

christmas. y/n wearing the paper crown from a cracker while his dad pointed the camera at everyone.

another.

jobe’s birthday. y/n holding the cake looking grumpy because she insisted she’d drop it if she didn’t concentrate.

another.

summer barbecue. y/n asleep on the garden swing with a book resting on her chest.

his mother noticed where his eyes lingered. “she really grew up here.”

jude swallowed. “yeah.”

denise looked back into the box. “i miss having her around.”

he stared at the photograph. “so do i.”

the words came quietly because he hadn’t meant to say them aloud.

his mother looked at him and asked gently. “did something happen?”

the house was quiet for a minute. long enough for rain to become the loudest thing in the room.

“i think…” his voice cracked unexpectedly. “…i think i hurt her.”

his mother didn’t interrupt. she waited the way mothers somehow always knew when silence was more important than questions.

jude rubbed both hands over his face. “my friends kept… making jokes.”

“what jokes?”

he laughed bitterly. “that she followed me everywhere. that she had a crush on me.”

his mother raised one eyebrow. “she did.”

“i know. i know that now,” he shook his head before correcting himself. “i knew then. i just…” he sighed. “i got embarrassed. and one day they brought it up again,” his stomach twisted. “i called her annoying.”

his mother went completely still.

“i said i couldn’t go anywhere without her and that she was attached to my side. that i wanted one visit where she wasn’t around.”

his voice became quieter with every sentence. “i didn’t know she was behind me.”

the rain outside filled the silence as his mother looked down at the photographs scattered across the table.

“oh, jude.”

heartbroken. for both of them. because she knew who her son was, but she also knew who y/n was. sweet and patient y/n.

“she heard all of it?”

he nodded. “every word.”

his mother closed the photo album. “i wondered.”

“you wondered?”

“i couldn’t understand why she suddenly looked uncomfortable here,” she looked toward the window. “i thought maybe she’d simply outgrown us.”

jude felt sick. “no.”

his mother reached over and squeezed his hand. “you owe that girl an apology.”

“i know.”

“no,” she looked him directly in the eye. “you owe her one without expecting forgiveness.”

that’s what was jude was the most scared about. that maybe she wouldn’t forgive him because she really didn’t have to.

he wanted her to anyway.

he spent the next week trying.

twice he drove toward her house. twice he turned around.

every version of the conversation sounded selfish.

i’m sorry because i miss you.

i’m sorry because i realized i like you.

the apology couldn’t be about him. it had to be about what he’d done.

fate, however, had different plans.

it happened at jobe’s match, a local charity event. jude had agreed to come support his brother and he had arrived late.

he stopped abruptly when he saw y/n.

she was standing beside the refreshments table helping hand out drinks to children while laughing at something a little girl had said.

she looked exactly the same and completely different.

she hadn’t noticed him yet. she was smiling with that same charisma she had always had. the one he loved so much but realized too late.

his feet moved before he’d fully decided to.

“y/n.”

she turned and smile slipped gradually. like she’d folded it away.

“oh, hi.”

there it was again. that polite voice. the one she’d started using after that afternoon. the one that wasn’t rude but lacked sweetness.

he hated it.

“can we talk?”

she hesitated and looked toward the children waiting for juice. “i’m helping.”

“i’ll wait.”

she blinked as if she’d expected him to give up. but twenty minutes later she walked over to him.

“what did you need?”

jude suddenly forgot every sentence he’d rehearsed.

“i’m sorry.”

she looked at him. though there was no trace of surprise on her face, she did look as if that was the last thing she’d expected him to say.

“i’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for weeks—months. and every version sounded wrong,” he took a shaky breath.

“you heard what i said, and there isn’t a version of it that isn’t awful.”

y/n stared at the grass between them, unable to look at him just yet.

“i was embarrassed. i let people teasing me become more important than…” he looked at her. “…than your feelings. i spoke about you like you were something i had to put up with when really…” his laugh broke halfway through. “you were just… being kind to me.”

y/n stayed quiet.

“i made you feel unwelcome in a place that felt like home. i took something safe away from you.”

he closed his eyes for a second as he felt his chest tighten. “i’m so, so sorry.”

y/n finally looked up and her eyes were glassy.

“i kept wondering what i’d done.”

his heart stopped. she sounded small. so small. and it was him who had done that.

“i thought maybe i’d been too loud,” she laughed softly through her tears. “or talked too much,” she paused to regain her breath. “so i tried talking less. i thought maybe i bothered your parents. so i started leaving earlier,” her voice trembled. “and then i heard you.”

“i realized…” she shrugged. “…it was just me.”

jude closed his eyes. every word landed like another weight on his chest.

“it was never just you. it was me. i was immature and i was cruel and i hurt someone who had never done anything except care about me.”

she wiped quickly beneath one eye. “i stopped coming because i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable anymore.”

“i know,” his voice sounded barely above a whisper. “and i hate that that’s what you walked away believing.”

she studied him for a long moment. “so what changed?”

the question was fair. of course it was.

“what made you apologize now?”

he smiled sadly. “you disappeared.”

she frowned slightly.

“i don’t mean physically, i mean you disappeared from…” he gestured helplessly. “…everything. the house, my family… my life.”

“my mum misses you, jobe misses you.” he swallowed. “and…” he laughed once. “so do i.”

she didn’t answer. she had no idea what to say. she was hearing things she’d convinced herself would never hear because it wasn’t jude who she had blamed.

“i never found you annoying. i found it embarrassing that everyone noticed you because they noticed before i did.”

y/n frowned. “noticed what?”

he held her gaze. “i stopped looking for reasons you’d always be around and started hoping you would be. so when you left…” he smiled through wet eyes. “it felt like someone had taken all the light out of my childhood home.”

y/n stared at him. searching his face and making sure this wasn’t guilt speaking. making sure this wasn’t pity and he just didn’t want to make her feel more pathetic than she already was.

“you really hurt me.”

“i know.”

“i cried all the way home that day.”

his eyes closed.

“i thought i’d embarrassed myself.”

“you didn’t.”

“i thought…” her voice cracked. “…if the boy i’d liked for years couldn’t stand being around me then maybe i was just…”

she couldn’t finish what she had tried to say. it was too much and there were too many mosquitoes and she didn’t like crying in public.

jude stepped forward instinctively but then stopped himself.

“i’m not going to ask you to forgive me, okay? you don’t owe me that. i’m not even going to ask if you still feel the same. because after what i did, i haven’t earned the right to know.”

y/n looked at him for what felt like forever.

and then very quietly said. “i don’t think those feelings ever went away. i just buried them.”

she smiled softly. but jude felt satisfied when noticed this time it was real.

“for what it’s worth, you were never actually annoying either.”

he laughed. his shoulders finally dropping for what felt like the first time in months. “i can work with that.”

she shook her head, smiling despite herself.

“i didn’t say you were forgiven,” she hesitated. “but i think i’d like to come by your house again.”

jude’s smile softened. “i think mum might actually cry.”

y/n laughed. “i missed her.”

“i know.”

“and…” she glanced at him. shrugging her shoulders. “…i missed you too.”

he stared at her, almost afraid to believe he’d heard correctly.

“so…” he asked carefully. “can i walk you back to the pitch?”

she pretended to think about it. “hm. i suppose. but only because jobe’s probably wondering where i’ve gone.”

he smiled. “and because you don’t want him thinking i’m annoying?”

she groaned, laughing as she lightly nudged his arm. “oh, don’t ruin the moment.”

he caught himself smiling wider than he had in months.

three months later, the bellingham house sounded like itself again.

it happened so gradually that no one could pinpoint exactly when y/n had started letting herself stay until midnight again. or when she stopped asking, “is it alright if i come over?” and simply walked through the front door with the familiar “hello?” like she’d done since she was ten.

denise had cried one evening while y/n was helping wash dishes.

she wrapped her arms around her and whispered. “i’ve missed having you here.”

y/n had hugged her back just as tightly. “i’ve missed being here.”

neither of them mentioned why she’d ever stopped coming. some wounds didn’t need reopening once they’d finally begun to heal.

jobe, however…

jobe noticed everything.

he noticed that jude somehow always knew when y/n was arriving, that y/n unconsciously saved the seat beside her, that whenever jude came home from training, the first person he looked for wasn’t his parents anymore.

it was her.

one evening they were all watching a film, or at least attempting to.

jobe was invested. his father had fallen asleep twenty minutes earlier and his mother was pretending not to.

y/n sat tucked into one corner of the sofa, jude on the other.

that was how it started.

then halfway through the film, jobe reached for the popcorn and paused.

“hang on,” his eyes narrowed. “when did this happen?”

y/n blinked with a small frown. “what the hell are you talking about?”

“you two.”

both of them looked down simultaneously.

without either of them consciously remembering it, they’d ended up shoulder to shoulder. y/n’s legs tucked beneath her and jude’s arm resting lazily behind her on the sofa. their hands intertwined.

y/n immediately let go, but jude didn’t.

he simply looked at his brother. “what?”

jobe stared shaking his head unbelievably. “no. what? when?”

jude shrugged. “a while ago.”

“a while?”

“three months?”

“three months?!”

his voice cracked and his parents woke up.

denise yawned. “what happened?”

jobe pointed dramatically. “they’ve been dating for three months.”

“yes, jobe, i know.”

jobe whipped around. “you knew?!”

“i’ve known since the second week.”

his father stretched casually. “i thought everyone knew.”

jobe looked personally betrayed. “i didn’t know.”

dating jude turned out to be nothing like she’d imagined when she was younger. at ten she’d thought it’d be grand gestures like flowers, fireworks and movie-like moments.

instead it was ordinary. wonderfully ordinary.

it was jude waiting outside her university lecture with two coffees because he’d remembered she’d had an early class. it was y/n bringing dinner to his apartment after late training because she’d noticed he’d forgotten to eat properly.

it was grocery shopping together and somehow spending forty minutes arguing over pasta sauce. it was falling asleep halfway through documentaries neither of them had actually wanted to watch.

it was peace.

no guessing. no pretending she didn’t instinctively drift toward him or that he didn’t instinctively reach for her.

one rainy afternoon she wandered into the bellingham kitchen where denise was.

eventually she spoke. “you know…”

y/n looked over.

“i used to think you’d marry one of my boys.”

she nearly dropped the knife. “excuse me?”

she laughed. “not because you had a crush. i didn’t even know about that until much later.”

y/n hid her face. “oh my god.”

“i just couldn’t imagine you belonging anywhere else.”

that evening jude found y/n sitting on the back garden swing.

the same one she’d fallen asleep on years earlier.

rain had finally stopped and everything smelled like wet grass.

he walked over quietly. “you disappeared.”

she looked up. “i wanted five minutes.”

“without me?”

she smiled teasingly. “i know. terrible.”

he sat beside her and y/n rested her head against his shoulder.

“you know…”

“what?”

“i still catch myself wondering if i’m bothering you.”

his entire body softened. “you really believe that?”

“sometimes,” she paused. “it doesn’t last long but…” she shrugged. “that day stuck with me.”

jude nodded once. “i know, baby.” he reached for her hand. “i don’t expect it to disappear.”

“it shouldn’t,” she looked at him. “you hurt me.”

“i did.”

“and some days i remember it.”

he brushed his thumb across her knuckles. “when you do, you tell me. i don’t care if it’s ten years from now.” he kissed the back of her hand. “if i have to apologize for that day for the rest of my life i’ll do it.”

she laughed through watery eyes. “you’d get sick of saying sorry.”

“i don’t think so.” he leaned closer.

a breeze stirred the trees around them.

somewhere inside the house jobe shouted,

“mum, where’s the garlic bread?”

his mother shouted back, “ask y/n.”

y/n laughed instinctively. she looked toward the kitchen windows glowing warm against the evening sky and then she answered just as loudly.

“top oven!”

jobe yelled back. “thank you!”

jude smiled.

“what?” she looked at him.

“it feels like home again.” he kissed her forehead and then he intertwined their fingers. “you’ve always been home.”

this time, when she smiled there was no hesitation behind it. no fear that she’d overstayed her welcome. no instinct to make herself smaller.

because the girl who had once quietly slipped out the back door, convinced her presence was a burden, was gone.

and in her place was someone who knew, with complete certainty, that she was loved. not because she stayed out of the way but because she had always, without realizing it, become part of the family long before she ever became jude’s girlfriend.

the porch light flickered on as the sun disappeared.

inside, someone laughed. jobe yelled something incomprehensible about burnt garlic bread.

his father blamed the oven. his mother blamed jobe.

y/n squeezed jude’s hand. “c’mon. they’re probably setting the kitchen on fire.”

he stood with a grin. “probably.”

she started toward the house and he caught her hand before she could get very far.

y/n turned. “what?”

jude smiled in that quiet, unmistakably fond way that was reserved only for her now. “i’m really glad you came back.”

y/n’s expression softened. “i know.”

she stepped back toward him, rose onto her toes, and kissed him gently. “when you apologized,” she murmured against his lips, “i wasn’t sure if we could ever get back to what we had.”

he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “we didn’t.”

she frowned slightly.

“we got something better.”

she believed him completely.

together, they walked back into the warm, noisy house. where someone was already shouting their names, where dinner was almost certainly burning, and where neither of them would ever again have to wonder whether they belonged.

@ moulinrougemo

Good God.... I was just gonna read one fanfiction before officially tackling my mountain of work and being glued to my desk. People are gonna wonder if somebody had died. This was a little triggering for me NGL, I am kinda going through the same thoughts.. wanting to stop existing around people's orbits, disappear... So my heart hurtttt when I read this, but what a great read it is.. my goodness.. loved every word of this P.S: I am very much team angst even if I get triggered, at least sometimes when I read angst here.. I at least get a happy ending

₊⊹ contains: established relationship, fluff, playful banter, influencer reader, tiktok trend, domestic moments, teasing, soft jude

₊⊹ summary: while filming an ice cream taste test for tiktok, you decide to try the "current boyfriend" trend on jude, and he absolutely refuses to let that slide.

you'd learned a long time ago that dating jude bellingham came with two very specific things. one, you'd never win an argument about football. and two, he'd hear absolutely everything. even the things you wished he'd ignore. especially those.

"are we actually filming now?" jude asks, leaning against the kitchen island.

you glance over from where you're arranging little bowls of ice cream into a line. "yes."

"been waiting twenty minutes."

"because presentation matters."

he looks at the tiny handwritten labels you've stuck in front of each flavour. "you've labelled vanilla."

"yes."

"it's vanilla."

"and?"

"...it looks like vanilla."

you gasp dramatically. "don't disrespect the aesthetic."

he laughs under his breath, shaking his head. "right."

the kitchen is a mess already. camera balanced on its tripod. ring light taking up half the room. melting tubs of ice cream scattered across the counter. tiny plastic spoons everywhere. the freezer door is still slightly open.

jude reaches over and closes it. "that'll probably help."

"i was gonna do that."

"were you?"

"...eventually."

he gives you a look. "you're lucky you're pretty."

you grin. "i know."

"cocky."

"dating you does wonders for confidence."

he rolls his eyes, though the smile gives him away. dating jude had also taught you something else. he secretly loved being involved in your videos. he'd never admit it. he always acted like he was being dragged into them against his will. but every single time your followers asked for another video with him... he'd somehow always end up standing next to you anyway.

"ready?" you ask.

he nods. "do i need to say anything?"

"just be yourself."

"...that's dangerous."

"exactly why people like you."

he laughs. "fair."

you pick up the little remote that starts recording. the red light appears. instantly, your influencer smile switches on.

"hi, everyone!"

jude watches you transform beside him. he always found it funny. one second you're stealing bites of chocolate from the fridge. the next you're speaking like you've just walked onto a television set.

"today we're doing something that's been all over my comments for ages." you gesture towards the row of ice creams. "we're gonna be trying every weird ice cream flavour we could find." you reach over, wrap an arm around jude's waist, and smile sweetly at the camera. "...with my current boyfriend."

silence. you feel him look at you. not move. just... look.

"...current?"

you keep smiling directly into the camera. "yeah."

"...current?"

"mhm."

he blinks. "that's interesting."

you bite the inside of your cheek. don't laugh. not yet.

"we're gonna rate them out of ten and—"

"sorry." he interrupts, still staring at you. "current boyfriend?"

you finally look up at him. "yeah?"

he points at himself. "current?"

"that's what i said."

"...right." his eyebrows pull together. "so... there's gonna be another one?"

you shrug innocently. "who knows."

"i'm sorry?"

"let's just taste the ice cream."

he folds his arms. "nah."

"jude."

"hold on." he looks straight into your camera now. "did everyone hear that?"

you start laughing.

he ignores you. "current boyfriend." he repeats the words slowly. "that's what i've been reduced to."

you can barely breathe. "reduced?"

"that's crazy."

"how?"

"i thought i was just boyfriend."

you nod. "you are."

"apparently not."

"you're my current one."

he looks genuinely offended. "there's... future candidates?"

"maybe."

"maybe?" he stares at you for another second before looking back at the camera. "i'm learning things today."

you completely lose it, laughing so hard you lean against the counter. he watches you with the tiniest smile threatening to appear.

"you're enjoying this way too much."

"i really am."

"yeah, i can tell."

you wave a hand. "okay." deep breath. "can we actually film the video now?"

he doesn't answer immediately. instead, he takes one of the little bowls. looks directly into the lens.

"hi everyone."

you immediately know he's about to be difficult.

"this is apparently my final appearance."

"stop."

"because i'm only the current boyfriend."

"jude."

"don't know who's next."

"there is no next."

"you don't know that."

you shove his shoulder. "you're so dramatic."

he grins. "just using your words."

you finally manage to restart.

"okay." you point at the first flavour. "salted caramel."

jude picks up his spoon. "safe start."

"exactly."

you both take a bite.

he nods. "that's nice."

"eight."

"i'm saying eight and a half."

"copycat."

"i said mine second."

"still copied."

he shrugs. "can't help having good opinions."

the second flavour is birthday cake. you immediately pull a face.

"that tastes like perfume."

jude laughs so hard he nearly chokes. "nah."

"it's awful."

"it's alright."

you stare at him. "you're lying."

"i'm really not."

"you've lost your mind."

he reaches over and steals another spoonful. "more for me."

halfway through the video you've completely forgotten about the trend. until you ask,

"which flavour's your favourite so far?"

he answers instantly. "depends."

"on what?"

"am i still your current favourite boyfriend?"

you freeze. "...seriously?"

he smiles. "just checking."

"yes."

"for now?"

you throw your spoon at him. it bounces harmlessly off his hoodie.

he laughs. "i'm joking."

"you're impossible."

"you started it."

comments are going to love this. you already know.

the next flavour is chilli chocolate. you both regret it instantly.

"what on earth..." you cough. "who invented this?"

jude is laughing too hard to answer. "it's actually spicy."

"that's literally the point."

"ice cream shouldn't be spicy."

"i agree."

he reaches straight for your glass of water. takes a sip. then offers it to you without thinking. you drink from the same glass. completely automatic. one of those tiny habits neither of you notices anymore.

"never again."

you nod. "that's getting a one."

"that's generous."

"next." you lift another tub. "pickle."

he looks horrified. "...you're joking."

"i wish."

"nah."

"yes."

"absolutely not."

you point to him. "you promised."

he sighs dramatically. "this relationship..."

you interrupt. "current relationship."

he slowly closes his eyes. "...you're enjoying this way too much." he takes one bite. immediately stands there in silence.

"well?" you raise an eyebrow. "jude?"

"...i don't actually know what i'm tasting."

"it's disgusting."

he nods slowly. "yeah." another pause. "...i think that's the worst thing i've ever eaten."

"same."

he walks to the sink. spits it out. comes back.

"if that's your idea of replacing me..."

you burst into laughter again. "stop bringing it up!"

"can't."

"why?"

"because i'm still thinking about it."

you eventually finish filming. camera still rolling as you both sit on the kitchen stools surrounded by empty bowls.

"overall winner?" you ask.

"vanilla."

"boring."

"reliable."

"boring."

he shrugs. "works every time."

"you have the tastebuds of a seventy-year-old."

"and yet..." he nudges your knee with his. "...i'm still the current boyfriend."

you groan. "you're never letting that go."

"absolutely not."

you reach over to stop recording. click. the camera turns off. finally.

you collapse dramatically over the counter. "i'm exhausted."

"from eating ice cream?"

"content creation is hard."

"right." he starts gathering bowls together without being asked. he always does.

you watch him rinse spoons under the tap. "you're washing up?"

"someone has to."

"rude."

"am i wrong?"

"...no."

he smirks. "thought so."

you wander over beside him. wrap your arms loosely around his waist from behind. rest your cheek against the back of his hoodie. he keeps washing dishes. like this happens every day. because it does.

"you're quiet."

"thinking."

"dangerous."

"very." he hums. "current boyfriend."

you laugh into his back. "still?"

"still." he turns the tap off. faces you. "can i ask something?"

"depends."

"was that one of those internet things?"

"...maybe."

he narrows his eyes. "it was."

you nod. "there's a trend."

"explains everything."

"people call their boyfriend their current boyfriend to see how they react."

he blinks. "...seriously?"

"yeah."

"and you lot just wake up and decide to emotionally confuse people?"

you grin. "pretty much."

he lets out a quiet laugh. "social media's gone."

"it has."

"you got me."

"i definitely did."

"thought you were trying to tell me something."

your smile softens. "no."

"you sure?"

"very."

he nods once. "good."

there's something so genuine in the way he says it. like, despite all the joking... for just a second he'd actually wondered.

you reach up, cup his face. "there isn't another boyfriend."

"good."

"there hasn't been."

"good."

"and there won't be."

"good."

you smile. "you're the boyfriend."

he pretends to think about it. "...i like the sound of that better."

"me too." you lean up to kiss him. quick. soft. he smiles into it. when you pull away, he's still smiling. "what?"

"nothing."

"you're looking at me."

"am i not allowed?"

"depends."

he laughs. "on what?"

"whether you're my current boyfriend."

he groans dramatically. "see?"

"what?"

"you've ruined that word forever."

an hour later you're both curled up on the sofa. editing the video together. mostly because jude insists on seeing how ridiculous he looked.

"pause." he points at the screen. "why am i making that face?"

"because you thought i was breaking up with you."

"i didn't."

you give him a look.

"...a little bit."

"exactly."

"well..." he scratches the back of his neck. "...who says current?"

"it's funny."

"not for me."

you laugh. "everyone's gonna love this."

"everyone's gonna laugh at me."

"probably."

he sighs. "great."

you upload it anyway.

"you're evil."

"just wait."

"for what?"

"the comments."

they start rolling in almost immediately. you and jude read them together.

"his face dropped so fast."

"he looked like he saw his future disappear."

"the way he kept bringing it up is killing me."

"current??? i'd react exactly the same."

"he was buffering."

jude points at one. "that's accurate."

you laugh. another appears.

"protect him at all costs."

he nods proudly. "i agree."

"of course you do."

five minutes later, your phone buzzes. instagram notification. you open it. jude has posted.

you frown. "...what?"

he tries not to smile. "nothing."

you open his story. it's a picture he'd secretly taken while you were laughing in the kitchen. ice cream everywhere. hair messy. completely unaware.

you look over at him. "...really?"

he shrugs. "thought i'd remind everyone."

you smile despite yourself. "you're unbelievable."

"and?"

"very annoying."

"anything else?"

you lean across the sofa, kiss his cheek. "...my favorite boyfriend."

he smiles. "that's better."

you pretend to think. "...current favourite."

he drops his head back dramatically. "honestly..."

you laugh so hard you nearly fall off the sofa. he catches your arm before you do. shaking his head.

"you're lucky i like you."

you look up at him. "like me?"

"yeah."

"just like?"

he grins. "careful."

"or what?"

"i'll start introducing you as my current girlfriend."

you gasp. "you wouldn't."

"try me."

"...okay." you hold your hands up in surrender. "i'll behave."

"good." he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you back against him. "because i've quite grown attached to this boyfriend job."

you rest your head against him. "yeah?"

"yeah."

"planning on keeping it?"

he kisses the top of your head without hesitation. "long-term."

you smile to yourself. "good."

"good?"

"yeah."

"why's that?"

you lace your fingers through his. because, despite what your tiktok intro had said... there was nothing temporary about the way he loved you. and nothing temporary about the way you loved him back.

Stop it right nowwwwuhh!! I need him

.✦ ݁˖ 𝒿ude 𝒷ellingham 𝑥 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹!reader ୨୧

➛ 𝓈ynopsis: england’s dream ends with a heartbreaking 2–1 defeat. some losses linger long after the final whistle. they follow you into quiet corridors, settle in tired eyes, and remind you that one painful night could never define you.

➛ 𝒸ontains: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, post-match vulnerability, emotional intimacy, self-blame, quiet reassurance, supportive reader, emotional jude bellingham, two people who love each other endlessly, physical affection, reader is his comfort person, a single soft kiss, comfort without fixing, post-match heartbreak, jude bellingham needing comfort, healing, disappointment, grief over a loss, being loved through difficult moments.

Stopp itt i lovee this soo muchhh

Too Much

michael b.jordan x black reader

Summary: In which, a comment by a one of Michael’s close friends leads to your insecurities pooling to the surface, and you can’t help but start pulling back in your relationship. Worried about if you’re too much.

Author’s note: Okay, y’all I feel like I’m bearing my soul here with this fic. I will admit that I am a certified yapper, but not in the way of wanting to have attention on myself, but I genuinely like having conversations with people. And if it’s a topic that I’m passionate about, then I start yapping and not realizing that I’m doing it. Growing up, I was used to people (even family members) making blatant comments to my face about me talking too much or even saying, “Don’t you get tired of all that talking.” Which I will admit caused me a lot of trauma and insecurity with talking in front of others. So this is a fic that I’m writing to all of my girlies who have ever been made to feel like they’re “too much” or that their “yapping is a bad thing.” Please keep being your authentic selves. You are JUST enough. You deserve to be HEARD. You deserve to be listened to. And the right person made just for you won’t ever think those are flaws! Okay, enough of my soap box. I hope y’all enjoy!

You were what most people liked to refer to as a yapper.

You loved a good yap. The art of yap was something that you were skilled in. You practically had a Ph.D in running your mouth. It was something that followed you throughout your entire life. Your mother even swore that once you learned to form words in your toddler stage, you hadn’t stopped talking since. Your mother would sit across you as you played with your toys and babbled away about things that were going on in your child-like world. Though it was often frustrating and tiring hearing you mindlessly chatter, your mother wouldn’t stop you from talking. There’d be the occasional call of your name, but no serious admonishing on your part.

The thing about it was: you weren’t talking to gain attention towards yourself. In fact, it was quite the opposite for you. With you, you loved talking and you loved hearing other people tell their point-of-views about their lives and interests. You had a natural talent of making everyone feel included, or feel like they were safe enough to open up to you. God forbid anyone mention a topic that you were passionate about, you’d go on for hours and hours about the topic, while making sure to still remain respectful to the other person and hear their side.

His Black Swan

michael b. jordan x black!ballerina!reader

Summary: When a comment by another actor during Oscar’s season drop, the internet and Michael rally behind you to show love and appreciation to your craft. 

Warning(s): SMUT (18+, MDNI), handjob, public sex, sub!Michael. Y’all I wasn’t even planning for this to have a smut scene, but then I kept writing and it came naturally😭. Also, for the person who asked for sub!MBJ, it’s here unintentionally. I hope y’all enjoy ♥️

This might be like top 3 fav bakari fics, i always go back to reread

Oscar. (MBJ)

Summary: After tonight’s major win, he just needs a second. Alone. With you. That’s the real prize.

Pairing: Michael B. Jordan x Black!Reader

WARNINGS: none

yes i went overboard who cares

⟢ 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑰𝑺𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑷𝑰𝑬𝑪𝑬

If someone had told Y/N three years ago that one of her closest friends would end up being a Jackson, she probably would have laughed in their face.

Not because she had anything against the family, on the contrary, she was a fan of them. It just simply would have sounded ridiculous.

The first time she met Jermajesty, he had been sitting in the back row of a university classroom, half asleep and completely uninterested in whatever presentation their professor was giving. She remembered that much clearly. She also remembered arriving late that morning, rushing through the door with an iced coffee in one hand and her laptop tucked awkwardly under her arm, already embarrassed before the day had properly started. The room had been nearly full by then, forcing her to take the only empty seat she could find, which happened to be next to him.

Unfortunately, her entrance only became more humiliating from there.

The strap of her bag caught on the leg of a chair. She stumbled. The coffee tipped forward. Several drops splashed across the desk.

Including directly onto the notebook of the stranger sitting beside her.

For one horrible second, the entire room seemed to freeze.

Y/N remembered staring at the mess in complete horror, mentally preparing herself for an awkward apology and what would undoubtedly be a very uncomfortable semester.

Instead, the guy beside her looked down at the coffee staining his notes, then up at her.

'So,' he said casually, 'is this your way of marking territory?'

The laugh escaped before she could stop it.

That had been the beginning.

Looking back, Y/N couldn't pinpoint exactly when the friendship had become important. There had never been a specific moment. No dramatic event. No life-changing conversation. It happened gradually, settling into her life so naturally that she hardly noticed it happening at all. One day they were simply classmates exchanging notes before exams. A few months later they were spending entire afternoons together between lectures. Then came late-night phone calls, shared meals, study sessions that somehow turned into hours of talking about everything except studying, and eventually the kind of friendship where neither person needed a reason to reach out anymore.

Jermajesty became part of her daily routine before she even realized it.

There were days when they exchanged dozens of messages without thinking about it. Days when he was the first person she called after receiving good news. Days when he sat with her through disappointments she didn't want to talk about with anyone else. Their friendship had always been easy in that way. Comfortable. Neither of them needed to perform around the other.

That was probably why she had been so annoyed when she discovered he had conveniently forgotten to mention one very important detail about himself.

She still remembered the exact moment.

They had been sitting outside the university cafeteria during their second year, sharing fries and complaining about an assignment due later that week. The conversation had been completely normal until another student walked past and casually asked Jermajesty whether he was attending a family event for the Jacksons that weekend.

The Jacksons.

Y/N had blinked.

Then blinked again.

Then slowly turned toward him.

'JacksonS?'

Jermajesty had looked up from his phone. 'Yeah?'

She narrowed her eyes.

'Jackson as in…thee Jackson?'

'Yeah.'

The answer had come far too quickly. Y/N stared at him in disbelief.

'You are a Jackson?'

He shrugged. 'Technically.'

'Technically?'

'What?'

'Since when? You never told me that.'

'Since…forever? You never asked.' He said with a chuckle.

To this day, she hated that response.

Mostly because it was impossible to argue with.

Meeting his family had happened a few months later. Y/N had spent almost a week debating whether she should accept the invitation. She wasn't nervous about meeting people. She was nervous about feeling out of place. Family gatherings had always felt deeply personal to her. The idea of walking into someone else's family celebration made her feel like she would be intruding somehow.

The reality couldn't have been more different.

She had barely stepped through the front door before being welcomed inside.

Nobody treated her like a stranger.

Nobody made her feel as though she didn't belong there.

The atmosphere surprised her. There was laughter everywhere. Conversations happening over one another. Music playing somewhere in the background. Relatives moving from room to room. The house felt alive in a way that immediately put her at ease.

The second visit was easier.

The third felt normal.

By the fourth, someone had already sent her into the kitchen to grab plates.

By the fifth, she was helping clean up after dinner.

Eventually the invitations stopped feeling formal and started feeling expected.

Somewhere along the way, Y/N stopped being Jermajesty's friend who occasionally visited and became a familiar face everyone recognized.

The transition happened so naturally that she never noticed exactly when it occurred. Jermajesty often joked accusing her of stealing his family to which Y/N always reminded him that his family had made the choice willingly.

The only exception to all of this was Jaafar.

Over three years of friendship, dozens of family gatherings, countless visits and somehow she had never met him.

At first, she assumed it was coincidence and after a while, it became a running joke.

Every visit came with a different explanation.

Jaafar was filming.

Jaafar was rehearsing.

Jaafar was travelling.

Jaafar had work.

Jaafar had left twenty minutes ago.

Jaafar would be there next time.

Eventually Y/N started referring to him as a myth. A celebrity version of Bigfoot. Because everybody swore he existed, everybody claimed to have seen him. Yet somehow she always missed him.

Which was why, as she drove toward Jermajesty's birthday party that afternoon, balancing a gift bag on the passenger seat beside her, she had absolutely no reason to think the day would be any different from all the others.

As far as she knew, she was heading to another family gathering.

Another birthday.

Another afternoon surrounded by people she genuinely loved and appreciated.

The Jackson house was already buzzing with activity by the time Y/N pulled into the street.

She shouldn't have been surprised. After years of knowing Jermajesty, she had learned that no Jackson family gathering ever stayed small for very long. A birthday dinner somehow became twenty people. Twenty people somehow became forty. Relatives appeared from nowhere. Family friends arrived with extra food. Children multiplied the moment nobody was paying attention. The entire thing always unfolded with a kind of organized chaos that somehow worked despite looking completely unplanned from the outside.

Even before stepping out of her car, she could hear music floating from the backyard. The bass carried faintly through the afternoon air, blending with distant laughter and conversations she couldn't quite make out. A few cars were already parked along both sides of the street, forcing her to squeeze into a spot farther away than she would have liked. Grabbing the gift bag from the passenger seat, she made her way toward the house, smiling to herself when she noticed the front door standing wide open.

That was another thing she had grown used to.

Nobody knocked anymore.

At least nobody in the family.

People simply walked in.

The first time she had visited years ago, she had stood awkwardly on the porch for nearly five minutes trying to gather enough courage to ring the doorbell. Now she barely made it halfway up the driveway before the door flew open.

'Well, look who decided to finally show up.'

Jermajesty's voice carried across the front steps and Y/N immediately rolled her eyes.

'Hello to you too, birthday boy.'

'What took you so long?'

'What took me so long?' she repeated. 'I've been driving for twenty minutes.'

'You could've driven faster.'

'That's illegal.'

'It's a birthday.'

'That doesn't make it legal.'

Jermajesty grinned before stealing the gift bag directly from her hand and hugging her.

Some friendships changed over the years but theirs never really had. The teasing had remained exactly the same since university.

Before Y/N could continue arguing, a familiar high-pitched voice suddenly echoed from somewhere deeper inside the house.

'Nini!'

A smile spread across her face instantly.

She barely had enough time to turn around before a small figure came running through the hallway at full speed. Abu Bakr appeared a second later, tiny legs moving as quickly as they possibly could as he charged straight toward her. The little boy practically launched himself at her knees, forcing her to crouch down just in time to catch him.

'There you are,' she laughed, wrapping her arms around him.

'Nini came!'

'Yeah, Nini came.'

The nickname had followed her for nearly a year now.

Nobody really remembered when it started. When Abu Bakr had first begun talking, he struggled with pronouncing her name properly. After several attempts that sounded nothing alike, he eventually settled on 'Nini' and stubbornly refused to call her anything else. Every correction failed. Every attempt to teach him her real name ended with him repeating 'Nini' even louder than before. Eventually everyone surrendered.

Now half the family used it too.

Abu Bakr pulled back just enough to examine her face.

'You late.'

Y/N gasped dramatically.

'Excuse you?'

'You little bit late.'

Jermajesty immediately burst out laughing.

'I'm not late.'

'You late.' Abu Bakr nodded with the confidence of someone delivering undeniable facts.

Y/N couldn't even argue anymore.

The kid was too cute.

She stood up and lifted him onto her hip with the ease of someone who had done it dozens of times before. Abu Bakr immediately settled there, making himself comfortable as he absentmindedly reached for one of the bracelets around her wrist. The movement was so familiar that neither of them thought twice about it.

Their friendship had been unexpected from the beginning.

The first few times she visited, Abu Bakr had treated her with deep suspicion. He watched her from across rooms. Refused to answer questions. Occasionally hid behind family members whenever she tried speaking to him. Then one afternoon she accidentally built what was possibly the ugliest Lego tower ever created. The structure had leaned sideways before collapsing entirely. Abu Bakr stared at the disaster for several seconds before announcing, in complete seriousness, that it looked 'ugly.'

After that, they became inseparable.

Now he followed her around whenever she visited.

The moment she entered the house, he claimed her attention for the rest of the day.

The backyard was where most people had gathered. Strings of lights hung overhead despite the sun still shining brightly above them. Several long tables had been arranged across the patio, covered with food that would probably continue growing throughout the afternoon as more relatives arrived carrying dishes. Music played softly from speakers near the house while conversations overlapped from every direction. Some people sat together beneath umbrellas. Others stood around talking. Children darted between adults, occasionally stopping long enough to steal snacks before disappearing again.

The atmosphere felt familiar.

Comfortable.

Warm.

Y/N found herself relaxing almost immediately.

This was exactly why she enjoyed coming here because nobody expected anything from her, nobody cared whether she looked perfect or said the right thing.

She could simply exist.

Over time, the family had stopped treating her like Jermajesty's best friend and started treating her like someone who belonged. The difference was subtle, but she felt it every time she visited. Nobody introduced her anymore. Nobody asked who she was. Family members greeted her the same way they greeted each other.

She wasn't just a guest anymore.

After spending nearly half an hour moving between conversations and greetings, Y/N eventually settled into a chair beside Jermajesty near the back of the yard. Abu Bakr immediately climbed into the seat next to her before changing his mind and crawling directly into her lap instead.

Jermajesty shook his head.

'I don't know why I bother.'

'You sound jealous.'

'I am jealous, my little brother prefers my best friend.'

Abu Bakr didn't even acknowledge him.

Instead, he held up a small toy truck.

'Nini, look.'

'I am looking.'

'My truck.'

'That's a very nice truck.'

'It go fast.' The little boy nodded seriously.

Y/N matched his seriousness.

'That sounds dangerous.'

Abu Bakr seemed pleased by that answer.

The conversation drifted naturally after that. Relatives came and went. Stories were shared. Old memories resurfaced. At one point Jermaine was halfway through telling a story about something that had happened years ago when his attention suddenly shifted toward the entrance of the backyard.

His entire face lit up.

'Ah!'

The interruption caught everyone's attention.

'There he is!'

Several people turned.

Y/N followed their gaze.

A man had just entered through the side gate.

Jaafar. 

At first, she only recognized him from photographs she had seen online over the years, and the ones Jermajesty shared wit her from the family album. The family talked about him often enough that she already felt vaguely familiar with the idea of Jaafar despite never actually meeting him. Three years of near misses had created an oddly strange situation where she knew stories about him before knowing him.

The backyard seemed to brighten with energy as soon as he arrived.

People stood to greet him.

Several relatives immediately pulled him into conversations before he had even taken more than a few steps.

Y/N watched quietly from her chair.

After hearing his name for so long, curiosity was natural.

He moved through the crowd slowly, greeting people one at a time. Hugs. Handshakes. Quick conversations. The ease with which he navigated the gathering immediately told her everything she needed to know. He wasn't arriving as a celebrity. He wasn't arriving as the lead actor from a major film.

He was arriving as a son. A brother. A nephew.

Family.

As he drew closer, Y/N found herself noticing details she couldn't see from a distance. The tiredness lingering around his eyes. The relaxed way he carried himself. The curls. The easy confidence.

And then he smiled.

That was the first thing that truly stood out to her.

Not his appearance.

Not the fact that she already knew who he was.

The smile.

It transformed his entire face. The kind of smile that reached his eyes before it reached his mouth. The kind of smile that made other people smile back without realizing it.

For a brief moment, Y/N understood why everyone seemed so immediately drawn to him.

Beside her, Jermajesty stood from his chair.

'Finally.'

Jaafar laughed at whatever his brother said in response.

A few moments later, he reached their section of the backyard. Only then did Jermajesty seem to remember that the two of them had somehow never crossed paths before.

'Oh, right.' A grin immediately spread across his face. 'You guys haven't met.'

Y/N stood as well.

For the first time, Jaafar's attention shifted fully toward her.

'This is Y/N,' Jermajesty said. 'My best friend.'

The title wasn't new. He had introduced her that way for years yet hearing it always made her smile. Jermajesty then looked at her.

'And this is my brother, Jaafar.'

Finally.

After three years of hearing stories.

After three years of somehow missing each other.

The introduction happened in the simplest way possible. Jaafar extended his hand first.

'Nice to meet you.'

His voice was soft, calm and friendly, just like the rest of the Jacksons. Y/N accepted the handshake.

'Nice to meet you too.'

The exchange lasted only a few seconds.

Just a handshake. A greeting. Two strangers finally putting faces to names they had both heard countless times before.

Yet as they pulled apart, Y/N found herself thinking that meeting Jaafar felt strangely similar to finally meeting someone she'd heard about for years. Not unfamiliar exactly. Just new. Like opening the last chapter of a story everyone else had already been reading.

And judging by the amused look Jermajesty was trying very hard to hide, he was far more entertained by the introduction than either of them were.

The introduction should have been the end of it or at least that was what Y/N expected.

People were constantly arriving and leaving at Jackson family gatherings, conversations splitting and merging every few minutes as relatives moved around the backyard. Jaafar had only just arrived himself. There were still family members greeting him from across the yard, cousins trying to pull him into conversations, and several people who clearly hadn't had the chance to say hello yet. Y/N assumed he would disappear into the crowd almost immediately. It would have been the normal thing to do.

Instead, after speaking with a few relatives and exchanging greetings with people nearby, he eventually found his way back toward the table where she and Jermajesty were sitting.

The realization caught her slightly off guard.

Over the years, Y/N had become fairly good at reading social situations. She knew when conversations were driven by politeness and when they were driven by genuine interest. Family gatherings were full of both. There were always those brief interactions where people exchanged a few pleasant words before moving on to the next person. Nobody thought twice about it.

This didn't feel like that.

Not yet, anyway.

Jaafar settled into one of the empty chairs nearby while another conversation unfolded around them, and somehow the two of them ended up speaking again. The transition happened so naturally that neither seemed particularly aware of it. One topic became another. One story led into a second. Every answer somehow opened the door to another question.

The strangest part was how easy it felt.

For years, Y/N had heard stories about Jaafar without ever meeting him. Not intentionally. It was simply impossible to be friends with Jermajesty and not hear his brother's name occasionally appear in conversation. There were updates about filming schedules, travel plans, funny family stories, birthdays he couldn't attend, holidays he arrived late for. Over time, she had developed a vague picture of who he was without ever realizing it. Now, sitting across from him for the first time, she found herself quietly comparing the real person to the version she had built from years of secondhand information.

The real version was far more relaxed than she expected, funnier too, that became obvious fairly quickly.

'You know,' she said eventually, leaning back in her chair as a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, 'I think I'm mostly just relieved.'

Jaafar looked up from the drink in his hand. 'Relieved?'

'Yeah.'

'Why?'

Y/N laughed softly. 'That you're real.'

His smile appeared again. 'I had a feeling this was coming.'

'Oh come on, you can't blame me.' She gestured toward him dramatically. 'For three years I've been hearing the same thing every time I come over.'

Jaafar already looked amused as she continued.

'Jaafar's filming.'

A finger lifted.

'Jaafar's rehearsing.'

Another.

'Jaafar's travelling.'

Another.

'Jaafar just left.'

Y/N pointed at him. 'At some point I genuinely started wondering if everyone was lying.'

'They weren't.'

'See? That’s exactly what a myth would say.'

The laugh that escaped him this time was louder and for reasons she couldn't explain, Y/N found herself smiling back automatically.

Across the backyard, Jermajesty immediately noticed. He had actually tried to leave them alone for a while. Tried being the important word. The effort lasted less than twenty minutes.

Now he sat several tables away beside Randy Jr., pretending to pay attention to a completely unrelated conversation while very obviously keeping track of whatever was happening between his best friend and his brother.

'You need help.' Randy didn't even bother hiding his amusement.

Jermajesty looked offended.

'Why?'

'You've been staring for ten minutes.'

'I haven't.'

'You absolutely have.'

'I was looking around.'

'At them.'

'At the backyard.'

'Which part?'

Jermajesty hesitated. 'The...grass.'

Randy laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink.

The truth was that Jermajesty couldn't help finding the situation entertaining. For years, Y/N and Jaafar had existed in the same orbit without ever crossing paths. It had become something of a running joke within the family. Every time Y/N visited, Jaafar happened to be elsewhere. Every time Jaafar stopped by, Y/N had already left. The timing became so ridiculous that even family members started commenting on it.

Yet now that they had finally met, both of them seemed surprisingly comfortable, as if they had skipped past the awkward stranger stage entirely.

Meanwhile, Jaafar found himself making a similar observation.

The longer the conversation continued, the more he understood why Y/N's name came up so often.

The realization became impossible to ignore once he started paying attention. She knew everybody. Not just their names. The actual relationships. The stories. The inside jokes. Family members greeted her without hesitation. Conversations picked up where they had apparently left off weeks earlier. Nobody treated her like a visitor.

At one point an aunt walked past and handed Y/N a plate to carry inside without even asking. Y/N accepted it automatically. Neither seemed to think anything of it.

That small moment somehow told Jaafar more than any explanation could. She belonged here.

The thought lingered in the back of his mind longer than expected.

Hours passed faster than either of them realized.

The sun slowly disappeared beyond the rooftops, painting the sky in shades of orange and gold before darkness settled over the neighborhood. The string lights hanging above the backyard gradually became the primary source of light, casting a warm glow across conversations that showed no signs of ending anytime soon. Music continued playing softly somewhere behind them. More food appeared. Someone started telling old family stories. Laughter erupted every few minutes from different parts of the yard.

It wasn't until Y/N glanced at her phone that she realized how late it had become.

The expression on her face immediately changed. 'Oh, wow.'

'What?'

She turned the screen toward herself again.

'I didn't realize it was this late.'

The statement seemed simple enough yet for a second, Jaafar felt oddly disappointed and the realization surprised him.

Eventually, the familiar ritual of goodbyes began.

It took significantly longer than it should have.

Jackson family gatherings made leaving almost impossible. Every goodbye turned into another conversation. Every conversation led to another hug. Every hug somehow delayed departure by another ten minutes.

By the time Y/N finally made it to the front of the house, she felt like she had already said goodbye at least six separate times.

She was searching through her purse for her car keys when footsteps approached beside her.

Looking up, she found Jaafar standing there.

'I'll walk you out.'

The offer felt natural. The sort of thing anyone in the family might have done. Even so, Y/N smiled.

Together they made their way down the driveway while the sounds of the party faded behind them. The evening air had cooled considerably since sunset, carrying the distant hum of traffic and occasional bursts of laughter from the backyard.

'I had fun talking to you today.'

The honesty of the statement caught Y/N slightly off guard.

She glanced toward him.

A smile appeared almost immediately.

'I had fun too.'

A brief pause followed.

Then she laughed.

'Although I still think you might be a myth.'

Jaafar groaned. 'You're never letting that go, are you?'

'Absolutely not.'

'Good to know.'

They reached her car.

For a second neither moved.

Then Y/N unlocked the driver's door.

'Well.'

'Well.' She smiled. 'It was nice finally meeting you.'

Jaafar returned the smile effortlessly.

'Likewise.'

'Hopefully it won’t take another three years to meet again.' She said chucking. 

'Oh, I will make sure it won’t happen.' He looked down at her while smiling. 

A few moments later she was pulling away from the curb, taillights disappearing into the darkness beyond the street.

Jaafar stood there a little longer than necessary before turning back toward the house. Jermajesty spotted him almost immediately. The grin on his face was a warning sign and Jaafar knew it.

'So.'

There it was.

Jaafar sighed. 'So.'

Jermajesty's smile widened and Jaafar already regretted sitting down.

Yet despite himself, despite knowing exactly what reaction he was about to receive, he found his thoughts drifting back toward Y/N anyway. Toward the stories she had told. The way she laughed. The fact that somehow she had become part of his family's life years before he ever met her.

'She is…very nice.'

'Right? Told ya.' 

'...Tell me more about her.' 

Jermajesty looked like Christmas had arrived early and practically sat up straighter in his chair. 

And somewhere deep down, Jaafar realized he had just made a very serious mistake. Because judging by the look on his brother's face, he wasn't going to hear the end of this anytime soon.

The drive home gave him too much time to think.

The roads were quieter now, most of the traffic having disappeared hours earlier. Music played softly through the speakers, but his attention barely registered it. Instead, pieces of the afternoon kept replaying in his head. Small moments. Random comments. Fragments of conversations that should have been forgettable but somehow weren't.

It was strange.

He had met her only a few hours ago.

Yet somehow she no longer felt like a stranger.

Meanwhile, several miles away, Y/N was experiencing a similar problem.

She had changed into an oversized T-shirt nearly twenty minutes ago. Her makeup was gone. Her hair was tied into a messy bun balanced somewhere on top of her head. She was curled up beneath her blankets, scrolling aimlessly through social media while half-watching a show she wasn't really paying attention to.

The day should have been over.

Instead, her phone suddenly vibrated beside her.

The screen lit up.

Jermajesty 🥳

you make it home?

She typed back:

Y/N

yes mother

The reply came almost instantly.

Jermajesty 🥳

good good

so

what did you think of jaafar?

Y/N immediately groaned and dropped her head back against the pillow.

Of course.

Of course this was where the conversation was going.

She should have seen it coming.

The introduction had happened hours ago, yet apparently that was enough to send Jermajesty into full matchmaking mode.n Not that she thought he was actually trying to set them up.

After staring at the screen for a moment, she finally replied.

Y/N

he seems nice

The answer lasted on the screen for approximately two seconds before another message arrived.

Jermajesty 🥳

damn, that’s it?

Y/N laughed despite herself.

Y/N

what do you want me to say?

Jermajesty 🥳

idk

you guys talked for like three hours

Y/N

we did not talk for three hours

Jermajesty 🥳

2 hours and 47 minutes

Y/N stared at the screen.

Then:

Y/N

why do you know that

Jermajesty 🥳

don't worry about it

Y/N

i hate you

Jermajesty 🥳

She immediately threw her phone onto the mattress beside her.

This idiot.

A smile still appeared anyway.

After a few minutes, she reached over, locked the screen, and set the phone on her nightstand. The room was quiet now. The only sound came from the television still playing softly in the background.

Slowly, her thoughts drifted back toward the afternoon.

Toward conversations beneath string lights.

Toward easy laughter.

Toward dark eyes and an annoyingly nice smile.

The realization made her groan into her pillow and this was exactly why she didn't want to entertain Jermajesty's questions. The last thing she needed was encouragement.

A few moments later, her phone lit up again.

One final message.

Y/N almost ignored it.

With a sigh, she reached for the device.

The notification preview showed only three words.

Jermajesty 🥳

he's asking questions

Y/N blinked.

Then sat upright.

Y/N

what does that mean

No answer.

She waited.

Nothing.

Another minute passed.

Still nothing.

Y/N

jermajesty jackson

Silence.

Y/N

JER!!!!

Nothing.

The message remained on delivered and somehow that was worse because now her curiosity had been planted. Now she wanted to know.

And somewhere across the city, completely unaware of the chaos he had just caused, Jermajesty was laughing his head off.

BESTFRIEND'S BROTHER?!! SAYY LESSS!! Oh my god I could not put this down and now I am late for work hahahahah

The apartment had been quiet for hours.

Too quiet.

The only light left on was the small lamp beside the couch where you’d been pretending to watch TV for the last hour, curled beneath a blanket with your phone resting beside you.

The episode ended twenty minutes ago.

You never changed it.

Your screen lights up again.

Not him.

Stop it.. This made me bawl....I pray that he doesn't feel like this in real life. He just looks so exausted... This was absolutely beautiful my lovee